


crawling back to you

by Mia_Zeklos



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Banned Together Bingo, Crying Kink, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Foreplay, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Sexually graphic, Smut, Telepathy, but he doesn't really do anything terrible here; just pulls a massive dick move, hesitant about this tag because it has Implications usually, not pictured: Poe telling Rey to please log out of the Resistance database for him, sporadically but it's kind of a thing, there is literally no plot please do not expect one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_Zeklos/pseuds/Mia_Zeklos
Summary: Prompt: "Poe and Finn finally have good news for Rey, they have captured Kylo Ren. He is now in a very well-protected quarters on another planet base of the Resistance because the two of them believe that it's better for Leia not to know about it before Rey can interrogate him, alone."
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020, Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	crawling back to you

**Author's Note:**

> Written by a [prompt](https://twitter.com/amoreusous2/status/1279979018360668161) on twitter and also for the Banned Together Bingo 2020, with the prompt _Sexually Graphic_. Title taken from [this classic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM). The "language from the ancient Jedi texts" that Ben greets Rey with is actually good ol' Latin and it means, _Those who are about to die salute you_.  
> As far as PWPs go, I think this might be the first piece I've written (or at least, the first in a long time) that genuinely has no plot at all. Some characterisation did sneak in, however, especially towards the end, so, as always, feedback is most welcome and I'd love to know what you guys think!

The footage definitely is— something.

“I’m going to tear you apart limb from limb,” the black-clad figure on the screen seethes, twisting and turning and trying to squirm free despite his bound arms and legs and the heavy, Force-resistant cuffs that weigh him down like shackles. “Let _go_ , Dameron, before I—”

“All right,” Rey clicks it off, distantly unsettled by the wild desperation in the Supreme Leader’s eyes. She’d felt how elated, how _ecstatic_ he had been after finally escaping Snoke’s influence; to see him in chains again hurts more than she’d ever admit. “I get the gist.” She switches to the live feed from Ben’s cell-slash-hotel suite, where he’s methodically trying to cut through the wall with his lightsaber. “How come he’s still armed?”

Poe looks mortified. “He bit me when I tried to get it off of his belt.” He idly rubs at his bandaged wrist. “Should’ve seen it coming. He used to do that all the time as a kid.” Finn pats his shoulder in consolation, but it doesn’t seem overly attentive. “I wouldn’t have let you in there alone, Rey, but you have to understand, I can’t give him up to the General in this state. As soon as she even thinks of lowering the restrictions we’ve put on him, he’s gonna kill us all.” He shakes his head, appalled. She doesn’t know him very well just yet, but he had never seemed easily bothered to her; the footage might have not done the encounter justice, or perhaps he’s just comparing it to a memory that had stuck around from before Ben’s departure for Luke’s Temple, because he follows up a moment later. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I could swear he wasn’t always like this.”

Rey heaves a long, resigned sigh. Unless she actually means to go inside that room and kill him – and she doesn’t – she’ll have to say those exact words quite a few times in the near future.

“I’ll talk to him,” she relents, as if it’s a massive sacrifice – who knows when she’ll need a favour. “Neutralise him, if I can. You’re right; you can’t bring him back to Leia in this state.”

It’s not entirely a safety measure on her part, much to her shame. If anything, she thinks the General would be rather open to getting the chance to talk to her son regardless of the outcome and Rey feels strangely reluctant to send him away just yet. It’s not possessiveness – she doesn’t own him, after all – but it’s too close to it for comfort and Rey pushes the thought away decisively. It’s a problem for another time. Ben Solo, as per usual for him, is a problem for _now_. “Take me to him.”

Poe urges her into the building – a hotel, for the lack of a better word, though what kind of hotel would accept such a collection of guests she isn’t entirely sure – and towards the honeymoon suite all the way up on the last floor. Finn shrugs when she shoots him a questioning look.

“It was easier to Force-proof the place when there were no onlookers. Plus, he’s making, er, a lot of noise. Constantly.” He frowns. “Actually, it’s suspicious how quiet it is here right now. His face is plastered over every recruitment invitation the First Order broadcasts across the Galaxy. Someone could recognise him, and then—”

He trails off as if he’s not sure what could happen and, if she’s honest with herself, Rey isn’t certain either. She knows that Leia follows every shift in public opinion on any matter, but even more so on her son’s budding empire – and has seen enough of the statistics to know that his rating among the worlds that had given up control voluntarily is— not terrible. Had she been less bitter, Rey might have even called it _good_. They can’t have some altruistic soul try and break him out.

“Here we are.” They’d stopped in front of a door and Rey instinctively reaches for the lightsaber at her side, only to drop it again, unsure. Better not to come in armed or she’d set him on edge without even opening her mouth.

In fact, she’d done exactly that already – he’s sensed her presence nearby and the tendrils of the Force he’s stretching out towards her feel inquisitive and demanding all at once, like hounds at her heels.

“I’m sorry for pinning this on you,” Poe – who doesn’t sound particularly apologetic – says again. “It’s just that you’re the only one with the right skill set.” He pats her on the shoulder, full of false bravado. “Scream if you have to. We’ll be close.”

“I hope it won’t get to that.” It’s the only quip her adrenaline-dosed mind can think of and Poe looks vaguely uncomfortable at the notion right before he unlocks the door, waits for Rey to slip in, and slams it shut. The distinct sound of about fifteen separate safety mechanisms clicking into place makes her gulp, but Rey steps forward all the same.

The room is surprisingly spacious. Granted, Rey had been sleeping on the smallest excuses for a mattress her entire life and she’d never seen a honeymoon suite to be able to make a comparison, but still – what pair of newlyweds would need this much space?

Her eyes stray to the bed and her train of thought is derailed so quickly that she can hear it screeching as it comes to a halt, not unlike the last shreds of her common sense.

She shouldn’t have done this, Rey realises. Poe had been wrong and she had known it since the start and she’d still chosen to do this. What had possessed her? She should have called Leia and let the Resistance have a go at him, but it had felt too unbearable, too unfair—

“Rey?”

Ah, yes. _That_ is what had got into her. Those imploring eyes with their ridiculous transparency, the edge of disbelief lacing that deep voice, that insufferable, permanent pout when he isn’t getting what he wants— _join me, please_ —

“Ben.”

He’s sitting on the edge of the enormous bed, easily enough to fit about four people, one of his hands tightening around the hilt of his saber while the other is braced on the thick blanket, ready to go for the defensive. His eyes darken in anger and she resist the urge to roll her eyes – he’s so easy to rile up that it’s no wonder that between Poe and Finn, they’d figured out a way to bait him into captivity.

When she says nothing else, his lips curl into a smile so self-assured that Rey fears it might provoke her to violence before his weapon can. “ _Morituri te salutant_.”

She does roll her eyes this time. The language is one she’d seen plenty of in the ancient Jedi texts and the way it rolls off of his tongue is captivating; sending a chill through her despite her annoyance. It’s like hearing magic as it takes shape. “You’re not about to die.”

“No? Was that the impression that Poe and his treasonous friend wanted me to be left with? If so, they weren’t very clear about it.” He settles back in his place, eyes alight with the challenge she already knows is coming. “They even sent in the Resistance’s favourite executioner.”

Lightsaber forgotten – the one that she should be igniting, in any case; his weapon is ever-present in her mind as it lays like a dark stain against the white sheets, just like its master – Rey strides towards him, acutely aware of the cameras that doubtlessly detect every movement in the room. Nearly a year of pent up anger, frustration, sheer betrayal, exasperation and something that feels the way she imagines love must be like finally boil over and pull her under and she grabs her stunned nemesis turned confidante and back again by the shoulders, fury bubbling up and overpowering everything else.

“They wanted me to neutralise you,” she hisses, unsure if the supposed surveillance records sound too. Given the threats she’d endured through the screen mere minutes ago, the likely answer is an affirmative. Ben shivers at the thought for some as of yet unidentified reason. “Because Poe thought that it would break your mother’s heart to have to see you acting like an animal over _handcuffs_.”

He doesn’t move; isn’t even visibly offended by her berating. Rey feels the indifference rile her up further, her irritation catching fire as he shifts beneath her palms to bring them closer together. “He did it to stop me from using the Force. Do you know what that’s like?”

“Only for the first twenty years of my life.” Granted, it _is_ different to imagine what she would do without that part of herself now that it’s awakened and it’s quite the same thing she feels when she thinks of him, really; the power at the tips of her fingers and the man holding his breath under her tightening grip are one and the same. “You can’t blame him for being afraid for his life.”

“I don’t tend to be afraid for my life when holding people at gunpoint,” he mutters, but his expression brightens with unexpected mirth at the thought Rey sends in his general direction. _You don’t hold people at gunpoint; you just kill them_. “I do.” There’s not an ounce of remorse to his addition. “Do you think they should have done the same to me?”

“No.” The idea is nearly unthinkable and the denial leaves her mouth without a second thought. They had fought before, more than once; she’d held his life in her hands back in the Throne room and she’d left him there to sleep with the stubborn, pathetic hope that something – _anything_ – would change. He had been surprised to wake up at all, she had felt it through the bond, but he had realised what she had done; how could he not be able to tell? She’d been so angry when she had learnt the truth that the idea of wanting him to be put down for disorderly behaviour is a disgusting one. She had wanted him dead more than enough times to last her a lifetime, but never like _this_. “After everything that happened, how can you ask me this? Ben, I wouldn’t just—”

It all happens impossibly fast. Before she can blink, Ben wrenches himself free from her grasp, drops his lightsaber, and swiftly grips her waist in two greedy handfuls, pulling her into his lap and in for a kiss.

She’s too stunned to move; too stunned to do _anything_ about it. It’s not that she physically can’t. His hold is loose enough that she could leave if she’d wanted to and he himself is half-convinced that she will – that this is too much, that _he_ is too much and she might care for him enough to keep him alive but there’s no way she could want him the same way that he wants her. No one has ever wanted anything that way, for all he knows, and the thought is so desperately frantic that it finally spurs her into action. Her arms lift up so that she can sink her fingers into his hair, breath hitching at the sensation – just as thick and soft as she’d expected it to be, all those times that she’d imagined—

Her lips open like flower petals under his and Ben groans at the thought, promptly slipping his tongue into her mouth. _You imagined this?_

 _You have, too_ , she accuses instead of answering. Just like everything else, kissing is easy to get the hang of when he’s right there, leaving his mind open like a book for her to read. She can still remember, clear as day, how straightforward it had been that night in the forest, when so much of his knowledge had poured into her, making her bolder than she’s ever thought she could be. This is the same – she’s falling, falling, falling through his mind, eager to reciprocate as well as she can. And alongside his racing thoughts and raging desire, the visions follow. He’s thought of this under all kinds of circumstances and all kinds of places – the forest too, to her surprise. The images send a wave of heat running through her, scorching and overbearing – it’s all so _graphic_ – before Rey lets her instincts take over and tilts her head, letting him plunder even deeper into her mouth as her hips thrust down against his.

Ben’s reaction to _that_ is rather intense through their connection and she holds still, unsure what he’ll do next, right before he widens his stance a little so that she’s straddling one of his substantial thighs. It provides just the right amount of friction to bring a startled cry out of her, his eyes dark and smoky when she meets them, searching. There’s desire there, definitely; a hungry beast clawing at her from both his body and his mind, coaxing the same out of her. It’s intoxicating and foreign and she wants—

“Rey.” There’s an entire language carefully pressed into her name, his gaze running all over her in a wordless assessment. “Should I stop?”

—and she wants _more_.

She shouldn’t. She should push him away and get off of him; should try and instigate a fight in the event that someone’s going to see the footage from this room. It might be a bit difficult to salvage with the visage of her groping at him like a dying desert dweller would at the sand near an oasis, but there’s nothing she can’t find an excuse for. She should stick to trying to find one, getting him to behave in front of Leia and then leaving this room and never looking back.

“No.” It seems there’s little else she’s been capable of saying for a while now, but it’s not enough.

“What do you want, then?”

 _You_. It’s such a simple answer that it suddenly feels like the only one that’s ever come to mind and Ben catches it not an instant later, disbelief and elation warring for monopoly over his emotions. It’s joy that wins out in the end; pure, unfiltered joy filling him up from head to toe. It brings surprise to the surface, too – he had thought that being happy would hurt. It goes against his nature, Snoke had said and Rey kisses him again to push the notion away, tired of her own pretences.

It’s definitely possessiveness; this new, alien emotion she had felt less than an hour ago. Somehow, she can’t bring herself to be ashamed of it anymore.

 _I feel it too_ , Ben confesses, mouth hot and urgent over hers. His hands start to wander, squeezing at her waist, roaming down the curve of her hip, his entire form shivering in delight when she presses into it. _I’m yours as you’re mine. The things I discovered, Rey—_

His confidence is breathtaking and terrifying and she catches some of his findings as they flicker through his mind. The word for what they share is _a dyad_ and the fact that she’s thinking of it makes him thrust up against her, a tortured moan finding its way out. A bond like theirs hasn’t happened in hundreds of years and there’s so much he wants to show her, if only she’d see reason—

“Don’t— don’t _do_ that,” Rey protests, mildly disturbed as she feels his power reaching towards her once again, heavy and dark and far, far too easy to follow.

He’s breathless when he speaks, his pale skin flushed in a way that has no business being as inviting as it is. “Don’t do what?”

“Try to recruit me while we’re—” Her face is heating up too, now, with indignation rather than the pleasure that shines through him. “While we’re—”

He laughs – a deep, rich sound that resonates through her very soul. It shouldn’t make her heart flutter given how filthy it is, but she’s long since given up on trying to regulate her instinctual reactions when it comes to him.

“We’re not doing that yet, Rey.” His breath is hot on the shell of her ear and, before she’s had a chance to respond, he’s kissing a line down her throat, one of his hands at the knot of her wrappings. One pull and it’ll all start to unravel, but he doesn’t move any further, much to her frustration. “Would you like that?”

If she’s painfully honest, which Rey generally prefers not to be, she has no idea. Her body is screaming at her to say yes, but it’s surprisingly grounding; the realisation that she doesn’t have a clue what’s expected of her now.

“I don’t expect anything,” he says, valiantly ignoring her wince at the apparently habitual invasion of another’s thoughts. “I just want you. I thought I’d made that clear.”

He has – more than once and in plenty of ways – but that doesn’t make it any less daunting, even if she feels the same way.

Ben lets out a sigh as he massages her sides like one would with a frightened animal. “How about this: I’ll continue touching you and if you don’t like something, you’ll tell me to stop.”

It sounds reasonable enough, but, “What if _I_ want to touch _you_?”

His grin has each and every one of the regrettable choices she’s about to make written into it and she can’t look away. “You can touch me as much as you want, Rey.”

It’s her name on that sinful tongue yet again that pushes her forward and Rey reaches for the zip of his tunic where it’s hidden in the depths of black fabric, eager to get her hands on more skin than he’d given her access to so far. He purrs into her mouths and then stifles a snort when she groans at the intrusion that his belt makes, snapping it open one-handed so that it falls to the side. She pulls the mesh with the sleeves attached to it over his head right after and curses when encountered with the undershirt that follows and he laughs, light and free, as if he’s not the Supreme Leader and she’s not the last Jedi; as if all the worries of the world aren’t still hanging over their shoulders.

“How many layers—” She starts off, frustrated, then quiets when she’s met with the expanse of pale skin that had scandalised her quite so much before. There’s no pretending about that now – she lets both her hands and her eyes roam, trailing down his heaving chest until she reaches his waistband. “Can I?”

“You first,” he commandeers, decisively returning to where the elaborate wraps of her clothes are held together and releases it with a sharp pull once he’d puzzled it open. Rey shudders as the material loosens around her body, the sensation intensifying when Ben tugs the flimsy fabric away, eyes lingering over her chest for all of an instant before he swoops down again, mouthing wet kisses down her clavicles and over the curve of one breast before closing his lips around its peak, tongue laving over her nipple, a pleased hum vibrating up her neck when Rey throws her head back on a moan, her grip on his hair tightening as if she could bring him closer still. A sharp flash of pain registers through their bond, but it’s fine, he’s fine – enjoying it, in fact – and she pulls harder on the dark strands, silently pleading for more.

“Ben—”

He bites her lightly, almost playful despite the obvious retaliation, and Rey clutches at him, pushing the name in his direction resolutely yet again through their bond. Better get used to it, should this ever repeat.

Ben uses her momentary distraction to swap their positions and Rey yelps as she finds herself floating in the air with no physical support from him, right before she’s unceremoniously landed on the bed, sinking into the thick pillows. _Of course he’d use his power for this, too_. “I thought this place was Force-proof.”

“You coming in helped,” he shrugs, quickly pulling her trousers down until there’s nothing left to cover her. Rey had expected it to feel different – too exposed too quickly – but instead, the gesture only serves to fan the flames of her impatience even further. “We’re stronger together.” He kisses her bare stomach, trails his gloves hands down to the juncture of her thighs where she’s wet and ready for him. She clenches on nothing – it’s only a tease with no real stimulation, yet – and another self-satisfied smirk blooms on Ben’s face. “There’s nothing to stand in our way then.”

“What did I say about trying to recruit— _Oh_!”

With no warning whatsoever, one of his fingers pushes into her, the warm leather easing its way in until she can feel the seams brush against her heated skin. Ben hisses.

“You’re so tight.” It sounds almost awed. She’s definitely _not_ looking at him, trying to cling to the remnants of her composure, but she can still see him when the space between their minds unfolds to welcome him in one more time; wide-eyed, tongue running over those plush lips. “I’m gonna stuff you so full, _fuck_.”

The deep rumble of his voice combined with the dark promise in it only make her squirm more, but it’s not enough and it’s too much and she wants— she wants—

His index finger curls inside her, brushing at something she hadn’t even known existed and Rey cries out. She grabs at his shoulder, unsure if she needs to push him away or bring him closer. “Take it— take it _off_.”

There’s a moment of stillness as Ben breaks out of his reverie long enough to catch up with her line of thought and then his hand leaves her abruptly as he shucks off his gloves. _You’ve never liked them very much_.

“No.” She doesn’t need to say why – she despises everything about the piles of armour, literal or metaphorical, that make him the Supreme Leader, but Ben is shaking his head before she’d had the chance to think as much.

“You hated it before I was Supreme Leader, too.” This is much better without fabric separating them, the heel of his palm pressing into the same hypersensitive place he’d found before while he pushes a second finger inside her and scissors them experimentally. A low whine escapes her throat, wounded and desperate. “It’s why you keep repeating that word.”

Her mind feels blissfully empty. Arousal, when fed, Rey discovers, feels like electricity running liquid through her veins; like pure happiness trapped in the body where she used to reside. She never wants him to stop. “What word?” He presses further, helping himself along with the Force and letting it caress every part of her that he can’t touch while he’s busy by her feet. “ _Ben_ —”

“That’s the one.” He pulls out all at once and the noise she makes sounds so dismayed that Rey would have laughed if it had been anyone else in her position. Her lover crawls up her body until they’re face to face, so close that his hair shelters her from the rest of the world like a curtain. He’s all she can see, the wicked gleam in those dark eyes all-consuming. “Take off the clothes, take off the gloves and you start thinking someone you approve of more is about to fuck you.”

If he’d meant to provoke her, it doesn’t quite work – him being crude is the smallest of her worries. “I know exactly who I’m fucking.” It’s not much more than a bluff and if he notices, he’s merciful enough not to mention it. His fingers burrow deeper into her, curling back towards him dangerously, and one of Rey’s hands clutches at his shoulder while the other fists in the fine, useless sheets that slip out of her grasp despite her best efforts. “Don’t think this changes anything,” she hisses through gritted teeth. He doesn’t seem daunted; if anything, once he gets his mouth back on her, he’s even more ravenous than before. “You’re still my prisoner, _Kylo_ _Ren_.”

She’d meant for it to be a punishment, but she can feel the rush that the name causes when it falls off her lips. Had she called him that before, to his face? It’s not likely. She had called him a monster, and a monster again, but after that once she had got to know him, he had always been just, “Ben—”

 _Make up your mind_ , he taunts her and Rey shakes her head, both in denial and an attempt to clear it by a fraction. “I don’t have to. And neither do you. You don’t have to pick and choose.”

She gets a bite to the inner thigh for her trouble.

“ _That_ ,” he grinds out, “is _exactly_ what I offered you almost a year ago, remember?” His tongue laps over her again; nothing but a tease, designed to drive her mad. “A new start. We could be something we’d never been before.” His voice holds a vow she’s not quite sure what to do with; a window into a life she should know better than to want for herself. “Something that _no one_ has ever been before. I would have left it all behind, but I am _not_ going to indulge my mother’s efforts to bring the past back to life.”

 _So don’t_ , she wants to say for one terrible, reckless instant, _come with me and we’ll never have to look back_ , and though she refuses to let him see it put into words, the general notion must have translated well enough – Ben groans, clearly thrilled, and tilts his head lower, his lips swapping places with his nimble fingers and a moment later, he rolls his fingertips around something in quick succession, making her gasp and arch her back.

So far, the pleasure had been firmly cemented in her core where his attention is centred, but now, it’s intense enough to make her choke on her next moan, the released tension cresting over her like a wave.

“Ben!” She doesn’t care what it’ll make him think; doesn’t care what he’ll be provoked to do. “Please, please, let me—”

She builds up a rhythm, eventually, thrusting back against his mouth as if it’ll make him go faster. It doesn’t – he pulls back, grinning at her mumbled protest, entirely too smug. “You can come, Rey.”

 _Come?_ She sends the thought his way, puzzled, and feels his jolt of pleasure at the realisation that she has no idea what he’s talking about. She’s starting to understand, with the way the ecstasy he’s weaving out of her body spears through her with every swipe of his tongue, every brush of his fingers, but there’s still so much she wants to know; so much for him to show her. _I’m right here, Ben._

She can feel his smile against her heat. “Yes, you are.”

The wave breaks.

Rey’s entire body curls up in on itself and she cries out, clutching at Ben like he’s a lifeline. It’s too much – the string that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside her _snaps_ and the same pleasure that had raced through her takes over entirely all of a sudden. She feels almost detached from this plane of existence as it follows in its own wake from head to toe over and over again, forcing a gasp out of her with each convulsion. She feels weightless and boneless and glorious and Ben doesn’t _stop_ ; little kitten licks meant to torture her – weaken her – more than he already has. He had promised to stop at any sign of protest, but she can’t manage it verbally; can’t do anything but push at his shoulder, thighs wrapping even tighter around his head. He seems awfully comfortable there and her silent demand only makes him look up and wipe his glistening mouth with the back of a hand which wraps around her knee an instant later. It’s warm and heavy on her already burning skin and she shudders helplessly once again when he speaks. “Yes?”

The fact that she can find her voice at all is a miracle. Her head feels fuzzy, her ears ringing a little as she sits up and drags him closer. Ben obeys, bemused but eager, as she cleans her throat. “Take your clothes off.”

Unlike him, she has no desire to wrestle him every step of the way and resort to the Force instead of telling him outright what she wants. It’s enough – before she can blink, Ben is off the bed and pushing the sleek black trousers down his legs, cursing as he realises, belatedly, that his boots need to come off first. Rey has all of a moment to amuse herself with his predicament before he straightens up again, a becoming flush – want and frustration mixed into one – spreading over his cheeks and down his chest. He’s breathing heavily, eyes afire, and before Rey has had the chance to take him in entirely – and it’s a lot, _he’s_ a lot to take in – he’s crawling back onto the bed, propping himself up on his forearms. He’s strangely fascinated by her breasts, it appears, and when he lowers his head to lather one with more kisses, Rey returns the gesture in kind, equally enthralled. Ben breathes out a surprised moan when she starts groping at his chest, eager and hungry and more than willing to learn what he likes best. Perhaps she can put her mouth on him too, she thinks, and it’s just as she’s deciding on a good destination for it that he pulls away, shaking his head.

“Tempting, but I’d rather you didn’t.” It’s so frank that it would have been hurtful, coming from anyone else, but with him, it just makes her tremble in anticipation, because, “I have something else in mind.”

It’s the same thing _she_ ’s been having in mind for a while now, but while her own fantasies are vague and guilt-ridden, his are just as blunt and brutal and honest as he himself is. “Show me.”

She tries to look between them, see what awaits her, but Ben’s death grip is back on her, grasping at her jaw and turning her head to him so that he can kiss her again. She can feel the Force moving around them, pulling her in the position he wants, the hand that isn’t busy cupping her face hitching a thigh around his waist so that she’s plastered even closer against him. It takes him another moment to let her adjust to the way he’s moved her around – to make sure that she’s ready – and he positions himself a fraction better before thrusting inside her with one swift move.

She can’t help it; Rey gasps and wraps her entire body around him, clutching to every part of him that she can reach, head thrown back to look at him, astonished and a little reverent. She’s missed the chance to meet his gaze, though – his own face is hidden in the crook of her shoulder and through the bond, she can sense how drunk he is on the feeling of being buried all the way inside her. It’s good – too good – and the sensation makes for a heady mix when it swirls into her own desire. The feel of him is so _alien_ , even with the effort he’d gone through to prepare her with his mouth and fingers, but it’s a lot like coming home, too; a relief she’d never known before. She could cry.

She doesn’t, luckily, because Ben only gives her a moment to get used to it before he pulls out halfway and slams right back in, setting a pace so unrelenting that it knocks the breath right out of her. He’s clearly enjoying the feedback loop he’s reaping straight from her mind, his pleasure joining in with hers, and Rey clutches him all the closer once she gets a taste of it by pushing at his mind and getting past his currently nonexistent resistance. The first time they’d connected like this, during the interrogation, the circumstances had been vastly different, but she’d still got the same vindictive shot of reckless adrenaline out of it; the satisfaction of giving as good as she gets. Back then, it had startled him out of that unwavering confidence long enough for her to escape while he’d dealt with the implications of it. It does nothing of the sort now – Ben just growls in her ear and fucks her harder, knees digging into the mattress to shift the angle a bit and each stroke feels _devastating_ now, driven by want and purpose and a little of that bottomless spite he can’t ever seem to shake; the desperate need to break and spoil and ruin anything he can get his hands on just to prove that he can.

“You fit me so well, Rey. Even better than I thought.” It comes out frenzied through his erratic kisses and he kneels up on the bed, pulling her along roughly by the hips, one hand digging into her thigh while the other flicks at that precious, overly sensitive spot again, relentless and searching. It’s too much – _he’s_ too much – and Rey wants to crawl out of her skin and stay rooted in place all at the same time; wants him to bring her to that elusive edge again, no matter how painfully sensitive he’s made her. She holds onto the bed frame for dear life, a whimper leaving her parted lips with every thrust. Ben’s eyes are hazy as he looks down at her, a smile that can’t mean anything good blooming on his face despite the filth that keeps pouring into her mind from his. “I want you to come on my cock. Want to know how it feels.”

It’s more of a demand than a wish and Rey follows orders; feels her body contract around him and watches his eyes widen further, a choked-off groan accompanying his next thrust despite his rigid resolve. He’s _beautiful_ to watch and she finds herself wishing, dazedly, to do the same for him; to bring the release out of him until they’re both drained and laid bare for one another.

By the time she’s found the strength to say as much, Ben had managed to flip their positions as smoothly as he can without pulling out of her and with only the Force as a crutch, mumbling, “You can lean on me,” when she falters, lost for a moment. Rey braces her hands on his shoulders and shudders when he uses his grip on her hips to lift her up, quick and a little rough, in lieu of any effort on her side. It’s not that she doesn’t want to help but that she _can’t_ , her body feeling loose-limbed and fragile with both pleasure and overstimulation. Gradually, she becomes aware of the fact that she’s gasping on Ben’s every upward thrust, letting herself be jostled this way and that, raw and far, far too sensitive.

“Ben.” It sounds high and plaintive to her own ears and he looks up in alarm, the apprehension melting away once he takes her in. She knows what he wants, but she can’t, she _can’t_ —

“You can,” he assures her, voice benevolent in a way that would make her want to slap him if she weren’t so preoccupied with the hypnotic push and pull of their bodies. He’s glorious, body glistening with sweat and hair fanned out across the pillows and she wants so, so badly to comply and he’s not given her a chance to recover _once_ , but, “Come here, let me—”

And he’s pulling her down towards him, the fat head of his cock pressing unerringly so deep into her that Rey’s hesitant control over her body’s urges finally snaps and she sobs soundlessly against his chest as he holds her near, desperately drawing in breaths to keep herself afloat. She can feel him twitch rather violently inside her as the first hot tears land on his skin and it’s this last push that brings her to yet another climax while she’s still trying to come down from the last one. She’s trembling, shaking, almost, clutching at Ben’s sides as if he’s the only thing keeping her chained into her body and he goes completely still, a tortured moan slipping out as he comes and comes and _comes_. It nearly hurts, how good it feels, and Rey can almost understand why he’d pushed her so far past her limits – if _this_ is what his pleasure feels like to her, then she could get addicted to it too.

She couldn’t have let him know if she’d tried. Ben urges her up half-heartedly for another kiss, tongue coaxing her mouth open, and Rey is asleep by the time he’s had his fill.

~.~

She’s had this dream-fantasy-vision before. Rey knows it even as she tries to adjust to the change in the usual rotation of locations and scenarios. It’s happened many times by now, even if it’s never been quite this intense.

It feels amplified, somehow, this time. Ben is in the room and in her mind and in their bond, dimensions layering one over the other until she’s dizzy with it, the warm glint in those dark eyes sending a plethora of mismatched warnings through her mind; ones she’s too blissed out to pay any attention to. Caution is for later, outside of this room, where she has to answer to the Galaxy once again. Not for here; not for _them_.

Still, when he speaks, that’s all he brings up. “Dameron and the— _Finn_ are still around, aren’t they?”

Rey nods, one hand lazily twining into his hair when he leans even closer; close enough to kiss. He’s fully dressed, if the rough fabric that crawls all the way up to his neck is any indication, and Rey struggles to open her eyes again after she blinks. Is it _normal_ , being this out of it? She refuses to admit any kind of vulnerability by asking out loud, but the way he’s propping her up with one arm suggests there’s nothing to be concerned about. “Don’t worry about them. I can handle it.”

“And nobody else knows we’re here?”

Her head feels altogether too scrambled for her to try and consider that, and gets even more so when she tries to wake herself fully. “Rose, perhaps.” Ben casually rummages through her mind with the bond as a driving force to figure out who that is and Rey blinks the sleepiness away, irked. “Wasn’t this room supposed to limit Force sensitivity?”

“I told you; we’re stronger together.” He kisses the top of her head. She’s so, so tired. “Remember that.”

And just like that, he’s gone. The last thing Rey hears before the ridiculously soft bed engulfs her anew is the front door slamming shut, regret and guilt and nervous anticipation spiking up in the back of her mind in response to a question Ben knows she’ll later have.

When Rey falls asleep again, she doesn’t dream.


End file.
